


A stranger, a goat and the professor

by Anxioushumanoidlizard



Category: Gravity Falls
Genre: Awkward Flirting, Humor, M/M, goat in a poncho, two giant nerds
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-06-16
Updated: 2015-08-18
Packaged: 2018-04-04 15:37:48
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 4,231
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4143198
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Anxioushumanoidlizard/pseuds/Anxioushumanoidlizard
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"i woke up this morning to find you sitting in my living room with a goat in a poncho??? who are you??? why is the goat wearing a poncho??? how did you get the goat in here i live on the 12th floor???”</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. the goat has a poncho?

**Author's Note:**

> posting this from my tumblr

An alarm went off, signalizing that it was 6:30 in the morning, a hand slammed on the snooze button before a figure sat up in the bed, the hand left the alarm clock in favor of rubbing a still closed eye.

Fiddleford loathed mornings, he sighed as he stood up from his bed and walked out of his bedroom on his way to the bathroom scratching his lower back as he made the, seemingly, miles long journey to the shower.

“Mornin’,” came a voice from the living room and he gave a groan in response before closing the bathroom door, once inside he turned on the water, stripped out of his sleeping garment and walked into the warm spray of water, dozing off for a second before he started his morning routine.

Fifteen minutes later he walked out of the bathroom with a towel around his waist, still half asleep.

“I made coffee, you want a cup?” the voice from the living room called again and Fiddleford gave a small wave of approval before he walked back to his bedroom to get dressed

“Breakfast will be ready in a few, you’d better hurry up or Gompers will eat it,” he nodded in understanding while he buttoned his shirt, not getting that who ever was talking could not see him.

He walked out to the kitchen/living room and sat down at the breakfast table, a cup of coffee and a plate of scrambled eggs and bacon was placed in front of him and he gratefully took a sip before diving into the eggs, he pushed the head of the goat that was about to snatch his food and…

Wait… goat? He did not own a goat, he turned to look at the creature and blinked several times, was it wearing a poncho?

Now that he was thinking about it who had made him breakfast? He turned around towards the stove and saw a tall, muscular man in a white tee-shirt cooking more eggs, when the man turned around and saw him gawking a bright smile split his handsome face.

“Good to see you in the land of the living, I’m Stanford,” he came over with the pan and placed more scrambled eggs on Fiddlefords plate, and set the rest in a dog bowl on the floor for the goat, where did that come from?

“W-what are you doing here?” the man, Stanford, sat down across from Fiddleford with his own coffee mug and plate of scrambled eggs and bacon “Not that I don’t appreciate you making me breakfast and all, but what are you doing here?”

Stanford looked up at the smaller man and shrugged, before he grabbed Gompers by the neck to stop him from jumping on the table.

“You should get a better lock, the one you have is easy to pick,” he grabbed a can from a backpack he had placed by the table earlier, and threw it in the direction of the sofa and listened to the goat run after it, “Me and Gompers here need a place to crash for a few days,”

Fiddleford looked at the brunette in horror, he picked open the lock? How, was he being robbed? Was the man a fugitive? Why was the goat wearing a poncho?

“He gets cold easily, and then I have to deal with him being clingy, so I keep him in the poncho,” Fiddleford did not even know he had asked the last question out load, he kept on staring at the man eating.

«Better eat that before it gets cold, lukewarm coffee isn’t too grate either» Stan looked up from his own food “Fiddleford, right?”

How did he know his name? He never said it, or did he? He lifted the coffee mug to his lips and was surprised that the bitter liquid tasted better than what he would make, and he hadn’t eaten a breakfast like this since the divorce.

“Y-yes, that would be me, well…” He hesitated for a second “How do you know my name? How did you get the goat in here? This is the 12th floor, this place have security for gods sake” at his last statement he stood up and leaned halfway over the table.

Stanford looked at the blond for a second before putting down his fork and answering

“You’d be surprised how little people question you if you look like you know what you’re doing,” his smile grew wider “And give the correct name and address of a resident,”

Fiddleford put his hands to his face and groaned, he was going to get Bulbs fired for this.


	2. suprise visits

Fiddleford looked at his watch and cursed, he had to be at the university at 7:30 and it took 30 minutes to drive, and it was 7:10 now. He gathered up his things and turned to Stanford

“We’re not finished talking,” he all but ran to the door and yelled over his shoulder “If that thing poops on my carpet you’re paying for it to get cleaned”

He ran to the elevator and pushed the down button as hard as he could, when the machine stopped at his floor he ran inside and pushed the button to the parking garage under the building. The elevator music did little to calm him as he waited, cursing Stanford, the goat and the universe as he paced around in the little metal box.

25 minutes later he parked his toyota in his parking spot and all but ran to the entrance, and ran to his class, looking at his watch 7:35, hopefully his students would not comment on his lateness. He stopped outside the lecture hall to catch his breath and when he walked in the hall went quiet.

He turned to the blackboard and started to talk about the first thing that came to his mind, when he heard whispers behind him he turned around to look at his, again, silent students.

“If anyone finds this too boring you can walk out right now,” he said loud enough to reach the whole class, he looked around at the faces looking at him and one lone hand went up in the air

“Um… professor, we went trough that last week,” Fiddleford paused and turned around to look at what he was writing, they did go trough this the week before, cursed be everything in the whole galaxy now he could not think straight.

He sighed and mumbeled under his breath before he checked his notes, he found today’s lesson and started again, ignoring questions of if he was feeling well.

When lunch came around he headed to his office, not willing to face anyone in case his head still was not with him. No such luck, he was stopped by the quantum physics professor, Dr. Stanley Pines, who kept on talking about what his six months old son had done and showing Fidds the pictures.

Something in the back of his head started ringing but he ignored it and politely shut Dr. Pines down before, once again, walking to his office and closing the door, praying no one would bother him.  
The rest of the day went without any other incidents, that was until he packed up his things and got ready to leave, his office phone rang. He made a rather annoyed noise before picking it up “Dr. Fiddleford Mcgucket, how may I help you?” the small laugh from the other end made him freeze

“I had forgot you answered your phone like that, Fidds, it’s Lauren,” the sound of his ex-wife’s voice made him check the date on the calendar he had on his wall, shit “Just callin’ to see if you remember that I’m dropping off Tate today,”

No, no he did not remember that, the day had started in a very odd way, he shook his head and answered “Of course I remember, what kind of father do you take me for?” did he have food in the fridge? Did he have time to go to the supermarket? Was Stanford still in his apartment? Why hadn’t he thrown him out?

“Um, yes, Lauren, this is not such a good time,” he said in what he hoped was a nonchalant tone, but the noise Lauren made told him otherwise.

“Sure it’s not, hun, we’ll be there in an hour,” she hung up and Fiddleford all but ran to his car.

When he arrived home he had to push a goat away from the door, so the man was still there, and was met with the smell of cooking and Stanford’s smiling face from the kitchen,

“Hey, I wasn’t sure when you’d be back so I’m making something easy to reheat,” Fiddleford just nodded before he ran to his son’s room to make the bed, after that he ran around in the apartment to give it a last minute once over.

He muttered curses under his breath, damned the goat a few times when it was in the way, and all but ignored Stanford’s questions, the taller gave up after a while and went back to chopping his vegetables.

A few minutes later they heard a knocking and Fiddleford ran to the door, he gave himself a few second to calm down before opening it and getting attacked by a seven year old boy who clung to his middle.

“Hey there, Tate,” he ruffled the boy’s hair and looked up to the woman standing in the hallway, she was pleasant to look at with her curves and waist long brown hair, was it not for the fact that she was the devil in disguise she’d be attractive “Lauren, how are you?»

She nodded to him and looked behind him, a grin spreading on her face, Fiddleford turned around to see what she looked at and the damn goat was on the kitchen table. he turned around to explain but she beat him to it before he could.

“Missing the life on the countryside?” the snark in her tone made him frown, this woman lived to pick a fight, before he could answer he heard Stan yell and he turned his head yet again in time to see the bigger man shoo the animal off.

When he turned back his ex-wife had an ugly look on her face “I can see why this was a bad time,” she shot daggers at him and the blond could hear the footsteps of the taller man coming closer.

Fiddleford frowned "Lauren, please, not in front of the boy,"

His ex-wife gave a laugh "Witch one? The one I gave birth to or the one in your hallway?" she pointed a finger at Stanford as she said the last word, the man opened his mouth to protest but thought the better of it, instead he turned his attention to the boy

“Hey, kid,” Stanford smiled and got down on one knee, Tate was finding his shoes very interesting as soon as he heard his parents angry voices “I made beef stew, hope you’re hungry,” when he reached his hand out the boy took his hand with a shy smile.

Stanford picked up the boys bag and led him in, as soon as the door was closed the two adults in the hallway started a screaming-match.


	3. Goat rides and wine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Who let Stanford be alone with a kid?

Tate was a talkative kid, as soon as he sat down he was blabbering like a brook, telling Stanford all about what he had learned in school that day, what some of his classmates had done that landed them in trouble and what he had for lunch that day.

“I like when we have pizza day, but I don't like the one with the mushroom, mum told me mushroom is good for you but my teacher told me mushrooms eat dead things,” Stanford nodded and responded as well as he could.

He tried to hold Gompers occupied as he sat the table but the darn animal had decided the table was his spot and when the thing decided something it was hell to get him away from the impression “Darn goat, go to the sofa,” he mumbled under his breath the third time he had to swat it away from the table.

Tate looked at him for a second, the boy looked down at his hands “Do you think mommy and daddy will be back together again?” Stanford froze in his spot and turned to look at the boy, this was territory he was not supposed to tread, he turned back to the stew.

“Listen, kid, this is something you have to ask yer dad about,” the boy jumped down from his chair and walked over to the older man “I mean I've only known the guy for a couple of hours,”

He looked down at the kid, his eyes widened when he saw the heartbreak and tears in his eyes, 'Super, Ford, just grate. Brake the kids heart, why don'tcha' he smiled and went down on one knee and put a hand on Tate's shoulder “You wanna ride Gompers?”

The huge smile that split the kids face told him the answer.

 

~xXx~

 

Fiddleford said goodbye to his ex wife and closed the door, he walked to the living room and was almost knocked down by his son riding the goat “Look out daddy,” Tate yelled and laughed as Stanford pushed him away to get the boy and the goat under control.

“A little help here?” the larger male yelled as Fiddleford tried to understand the situation, when it registered he ran in front of the beast and snatched his son of as it passed him, the animal jumped up on the table and calmed down there.

Fiddleford sat his son down and spun around, poking his finger in Fords chest “Care to explain why my child was riding that darn thing around my living room?” he ignored the little boy pulling on his pants and protests “What if he fell off and broke his neck, you moron?”

Stanford opened his mouth to explain but Tate yelled louder, Fiddleford picked the boy up and put a finger to his mouth “What have I told you about indoor voices, young man?” Tate opened his mouth again to protest but closed it when his dad frowned “Now, go pack out in your room, I'll call you when dinner is done,”

Obediently, and with a hanging head, Tate walked to his room and Fiddleford turned around and crossed his arms, waiting patiently for an explanation.

“Listen, Fidds, the kid were asking questions-”

“So answer them, don't put him on a goa-” a hand was put on his mouth to shut him up

“Questions I can't answer, if you and what's her name” at that Fiddleford snorted “Would ever be back together,” he removed the hand from the professor's mouth and sighed “So it was easier to let him ride Gompers”

Fiddleford raised his eyebrows and put his hands on his hips “Remind me to never let you babysit, and to trow you out when Tate has gone to bed,” he turned to the boys room, before he opened the door he turned his head “Is the food ready?”

At the mention of food Stanford widened his eyes and ran to the stove “Holy shit, the stew!” he ignored the hiss about language from the older man and moved the pot from the plate.

 

~xXx~

 

Dinner was saved and Tate had asked a bunch of questions, soon after they were all on the sofa watching a show Stanford had never heard of before the boy was sent off to bed. 

Fiddleford tucked his boy in and read a chapter of a book he had bought from his mothers (”No, daddy, that's not how mommy do their voices”) and made sure he was asleep before he let himself out of the room.

He was met with a wineglass, which he gratefully accepted, he walked to the sofa and sat down. The day had gone by in a flash and he was grateful for the, seemingly good, red wine Stan had given him.

He leaned his head back and closed his eyes “I'll trow ya out tomorrow, I'm too tired right now,” the other man gave a low chuckle before he sat down beside him, the goat had settled on the cleaned kitchen table.

They sat in silence for a while, sipping on the wine and enjoying the company, before the professor turned to look at the other “But seriously, why are you here?”

Stan looked at the smaller man and smiled “Would you believe me if I told you a yellow triangle, with one eye and a top hat, told me to search you up in a dream?” at the older mans septic expression he chuckled “Didn't think so”

They fell back in silence for a while more before Fiddleford turned back to him “You are not some crazed lunatic that ran away from some kind of institution,” at this the younger man grinned wide and Fiddleford had to swallow his nervousness “Are you?”

A loud laugh startled the blonde before a big arm warped itself around his shoulders “You should have thought about that hours ago, Fiddlestick,” the laughter calmed down to a low rumble and Fiddleford could feel himself blushing “But no, I'm not,”

The arm let go of his sholder but stayed on the sofa back as Stanford moved a little away from him and continued to sup on his wine, the proffesor felt his blush growing darker but decided to ignore it for the time being.

He hoped Stan told him the truth

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so sorry for updating late, I will not switch the names in this story unless it is a big outcry for it.


	4. trip to the park

A door slammed open and a young boy started to jump in a bed, signalizing for his father that it was around 7-7:30 in the morning, and Fiddleford groaned. He turned over buried his head under the blankets, ignoring Tates yells of “Wake up, daddy,” he could spare a few extra minutes this once.

He had only had two glasses of wine last night, but the small headache he had told him that was one glass too much, and his sons jumping and yelling did not make the situation any better.

“Rise and shine, Fiddlestick.” a gruff voice yelled from the open door just as Tate landed on his stomach, he sat up and looked first down on his son and then to his doorway where Stanford stood.

He had been out running by the looks of it, he stretched his arm over his head giving the professor a glimpse of a six-pack between a pair of running pants and a ratty gray t shirt, he looked away before he was caught staring and realized his moth had gone a bit dry. 

He could feel his face heat up, this was not happening, he was not falling for a stranger. Even if he was a stranger currently residing in his apartment.

The younger man smiled at him, eyes twinkling with mischief, making the blonde wonder if he had been caught staring, “I'm just going shower real quick, then I'll make breakfast,” he turned his head to the boy who had gone back to jumping in Fiddlefords bed “Who wants Stancakes?” the young McGucket cheered and jumped off the bed and ran past him to the living room.

Fiddleford turned his head to tell the boy, yet again, no running inside but the words stopped as he saw Stan still standing in the doorway. The younger man smiled to him and winked before heading to the bathroom.

The older mans eyes followed the muscular form until it was out of sight, then he fell back on his bed and groaned, what on earth did his head think it was doing?  
He came out of his room twenty minutes later and was met with the sight of his son petting the goat, who was on the kitchen table again, while talking loudly to a wet haired Stanford by the stove, mixing what looked like pancake mix.

He turned to his boy and smiled “Tater tot, can you be a darlin' an get that animal off the table?” with the vicious look the goat shoot him he could swear the darn thing understood him.

The boy nodded his head and got up “Come here Gompers, let's go watch TV,” he ran to the sofa and the goat ran after him, he heard a crash followed by his son's voice yelling he was okay.

“I think Gompers like the kid,” Fiddleford jumped a few feet in the air, he had not heard the other man walk up to him, he opened his mouth to yell at the other but Stanford just gave him the balloon wisp and a bright smile “do I need more sugar? Or something else?” his smile grew wider when the older man just shook his head.

Stanford went back to his cooking and Fiddleford walked to the living room aria, the goat had settled on the floor and his son was using it as a pillow, watching a cartoon, about a man yielding a sword of power or something like that. He looked at the boy smiling and explaining to the goat who the different characters were and what they did, he smiled and sat down on the couch and listened to the jumble of words that fell out of the young boys mouth. The goat was seemingly watching the television with interest, impossible it might be, as the boy kept talking.

He had almost dosed off again when Stan yelled the pancakes were done, his son got off the floor and ran to the kitchen, the goat ran after him. Fiddleford got off the sofa rather sluggishly, he sat down by the table and smiled to Tate who was mumbling “One for you, one for me” as he divided his pancakes between himself and Gompers. Stanford set a plate and a cup of coffee in front of him, witch he gratefully accepted, before he went back to the stove to make some for himself.

“Are you doing anything today, Stan?” Fiddleford looked up at the younger man, who smiled back, mouth full of food, and shook his head in a no, the blonde nodded “I was thinking about taking Tate to the park, and since he and Gompers have become such good friends, maybe you'd like to join?”

Stan turned to the goat and smiled “What'd'ya day, Gomp? Wanna go to the park?” the goat looked at him with a blank expression for a minute before going back to his food and Stan turned back to the professor “He's okay with it, when do we leave?”

 

Fiddleford kept his eyes glued to the boy from his bench, the young McGucket was chasing the goat along with other children “And you're sure the animal don't mind?” he asked the man beside him for the sixth time.

Stanford was leaning back on the bench, his arm resting on the back while he sipped on a Pitt Cola, he nodded his head for the hundredth time and sighed “If he minds he'll run to me and most likely try to crush me by jumping into my lap,” he laughed and turned to the smaller man, “I promise he will not turn on the children, he's smarter than that.” Just as he said it the goat ran towards them and leap into his lap, the brunet gave a “oomph” as the goats head made an impact with his stomach.

The children laughed and ran after it an Fiddleford got up from his seat as Stan regained his breathing while the goat settled down on his lap, “Now children, time to leave the poor animal alone,” his answer was disappointed awing before they turned around and ran back to do something else, the professor turned around to look at the younger man who looked at him with a smile and a thumbs up to show him he was okay while the goat was still standing on top of him, staring at McGucket with eyes that screamed hatred for a second before it went back to being blank.

Stanford laughed and scratched him behind an ear before pushing him off, turning his smile to Fiddleford, seemingly not noticing the look the goat had given him.

They stayed in the park for the most of the day, around lunch they went to a street vendor and Tate had whined himself to some ice cream, by the time they went home he was so exhausted Stan had to carry him to the cat, the goat running around them in circles.

Stanford started dinner, something simple he said, and Fiddleford carried the boy to the couch for a nap, the goat coming with him and settling on the floor. He walked back to the kitchen and helped the taller man with the dinner.

He set the table and went to wake up Tate, the little boy was not as talkative as he had been last night and as soon as he was finished Fiddleford shooed him off to change into pajamas and brush his teeth as he himself helped Stan with the dishes. As soon as they were done he walked into Tates room to tuck him in, and like last night Stanford was waiting for him with a glass of wine when he came out.

He could get used to this.


End file.
